


The Island and the Prison Ship

by jujubiest



Category: Escape Plan (2013), Lost, Person Of Interest - Fandom
Genre: Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 03:11:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3274532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujubiest/pseuds/jujubiest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Harold wake up in strange and unfamiliar places, with no memory of how they got there. Each is greeted by a stranger who looks just like the one person in the world they trust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Island and the Prison Ship

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JinkyO](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinkyO/gifts), [mithveaen](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=mithveaen).



> This happened because I was watching Escape Plan again with my roommate, who had never seen it. I don't know if I'll do anything else with it. Not even sure what I would do. This is really all I had but if I get more ideas, I'll write more since a couple of people have expressed interest in reading it if I do.

John Reese wakes up on a sun-soaked beach.

There’s sand shifting under his back as he moves, grit stinging his eyes. He blinks, squinting painfully. The air is hot and damp, no breeze off the water. The light glints bright and painfully off the shifting waves. John closes his eyes against it, takes a breath that aches. _Where am I? How the hell did I get here?_

A sound has his eyes flying open. He tries to move and finds that it doesn't happen. It's the closest to genuine panic he's been in as long as he can remember. If he can't move, he can't fight. And he's not alone.

There’s a man leaning over him, blocking out the sun. His face is darkly shadowed, yet surrounded by a halo of light. He looks like Harold, and for a moment John calms down. Then the man smiles, and his heart sinks. It's not Harold.

He’s younger, for one thing. There are less lines around his eyes when he smiles, more brown than gray in his hair. He’s also far dirtier than Reese has ever seen Harold get, even in the worst circumstances. But it isn’t just the physical differences. There’s something intangibly shifty in his eyes, something calculating and self-preserving and entirely foreign to the way Harold looks when he’s solving a problem.

This man is not a problem-solver. He’s a rat in a box, and he’s wondering whether Reese might be a useful tool he can use to scratch his way out.

"Hello John," he says, smiling. "Do you mind if I call you John?"

* * *

 

Meanwhile, somewhere on the open sea, far away from computers or the eyes of his machine, the man who known to his dearest friends as Harold Finch opens his eyes to a world of cold, gray metal, blueish light, and thick glass. He's strapped to a chair in a horrific, multifaceted cage, surrounded by guards in black masks.

There’s a man standing over him who looks like Reese, but isn't. He knows it before the man says a word.

His three-piece suit is elegant and expertly tailored, almost fastidious in its precise lines and monochrome black-and-steel blue pallet. It looks more like something Harold would wear than anything John would let him dress him in. And there’s a glint in this man’s eyes like nothing he’s ever seen in John’s: not the warm affection of his friend or the cold steel of the avenging angel. This is searing heat. It's lascivious, it’s sadistic…the look of a voyeur. This man has seen a lot of blood, and he’s never let a drop of it fall on his perfectly polished shoes. Harold feels sick.

"How did I...get here?" He asks softly. The man who is not John smiles, and Harold very much wishes he wouldn't.

"It doesn't matter, Mr. Finch. You're here now. And you belong to me."


End file.
